Masters
Masters
Badboy
Victor Terry
$3.95
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FORWORD
“Hands and knees and stay there.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, submitting myself to Richard.
I was on my hands and knees before the wide mirror on the closet door, and I watched his reflection. He knew exactly what he was doing, for he went straight for the bedside table, opened the drawer, and took out my slave chain. Hefting it in his hand, he came back to me and crouched to fasten it roughly around my neck. The metal was cold, but, as always, I loved the feeling of the chain resting around my neck, where it belonged.
Richard stood.
“Clean my boots.”
Eagerly, I bent to my task, my ass in the air as my head went down to my temporary Master’s boots. My tongue came out and I licked and cleaned and slurped until the leather was wet and shiny with my spit. I was dizzy with the smell of leather. I cleaned the toes and the sides and the insteps and the heels, sometimes seeing myself in the mirror as my head turned toward it, humbling myself at my task. I was serving; as I had to, as I was meant to.
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